


Drabble Collection 11

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just leave ‘em. If we’re lucky, Kise might drown in his own nosebleed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble Collection 11

**[Akashi/Kuroko, AU, death by moe]**

“I’ve always wondered,” says Daiki, flipping idly through one of Satsuki’s magazines, “why you call your brother by name and not, well, ‘big brother’ or anything.”

“That’s because we’re twins,” Tetsuya replies, turning a page of his own reading material (which happens to be rather more mentally stimulating than what Daiki is skimming through). “We’re the same age, after all.”

“I’m still older than you are,” Seijuurou is quick to point out. “I was born first. Also, I’m taller.”

Daiki manages to suppress a snicker at Tetsuya’s frown while Shintarou makes a sound of annoyance.

“Does any of this even matter? It’s not exactly relevant to the club meeting.”

“But it’s interesting!” Ryouta, far more interested in prying into Tetsuya’s personal life than discussing the monthly budget, turns to him with a hopeful expression. “Go on, say it. Call Seicchi ‘Onii-chan.’”

Tetsuya gives him a withering look. “I refuse.”

“Actually,” Seijuurou says, “he used to call me ‘Nii-tama’ when we were younger. It was his first word, in fact.”

Ryouta and Satsuki’s faces light up in a way that makes Tetsuya cringe, but the two of them move so fast he doesn’t have time to use misdirection and escape from the inevitable embarrassment. They’re all over him in less than half a second, eyes glinting dangerously and panting more in perverted excitement than the exertion of moving their bodies.

“Oh my god,” Satsuki squeals, plastering herself to Tetsuya’s left side. “That’s so cute I could die!”

“Tetsuyacchi!” Ryouta warbles, latching onto his right. “Be my little brother instead! And my wife! And my–”

“Kii-chan, let go,” Satsuki interrupts, giving Tetsuya a firm yank in her direction. “Tetsu-kun is *my* bride.”

“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” Daiki asks idly, having heard too many similar arguments before to bother getting involved. “And anyway, keep pulling like that and you’ll tear Tetsu right in two.”

“That’s right, Momocchi,” says Ryouta, trying (and failing) to extract the object of their affection from her iron embrace. “You’re going to break him!”

Sighing, Seijuurou snaps his fingers. “Wake up, Atsushi. It’s time to rescue my brother.” 

“Roger.” Stifling a yawn, Atsushi rouses himself from semi slumber and plucks Tetsuya out of Ryouta and Satsuki’s arms as easily as a regular human being would find picking a flower out of the ground. “It’s okay, Tetsu-chin, you’re safe now.”

Feet dangling in mid-air as Atsushi holds him aloft in some kind of bizarre Lion King parody, Tetsuya doesn’t seem to agree, and it only gets worse when Atsushi drops him into Seijuurou’s lap.

“Welcome back, Tetsuya,” says Seijuurou.

“I have returned, Seijuurou,” says Tetsuya, playing along with his little game and pretending to take him seriously, but he soon regrets it when his brother shakes his head.

“That’s not what you used to call me. Won’t you let me hear it one more time?”

There’s only one person Tetsuya can never say no to, and he’s smiling expectantly while Satsuki and Ryouta hold their breath in anticipation. Averting his gaze, he mumbles, red-faced, “Nii-tama.”

“Good boy,” Seijuurou says, patting him on the head as the founding (and only) members of Tetsuya’s fan club pass out through sheer happiness.

“Oh,” says Daiki, propping his legs up on the table to avoid the river of red that seeps out of their nasal passages and over the floor. “So that’s what happens when you get exposed to too much moe.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Atsushi wonders, not sounding particularly concerned.

“Just leave ‘em. If we’re lucky, Kise might drown in his own nose bleed.”

“This is going to leave a terrible stain,” Shintarou complains. “Do you know how hard it is to remove blood from wood flooring?”

“I hope nobody decides to drop by,” Atsushi comments. “It kinda looks like we killed them.”

“Don’t worry,” Seijuurou says calmly. “Our family has more than enough money to silence anyone who would dare to bring such cases to light.”

“They’re not actually dead,” Tetsuya reminds him. “Also, we’re not the yakuza.”

“You’re not?” Daiki sounds disappointed. “Then how come you’re so rich?”Identical shady expressions cross their faces, and Daiki shudders. “Forget I ever said anything.”

~~

**[Nijimura/Kuroko, finishing move]**

It’s a good thing Nijimura happens to look Kuroko’s way, otherwise he would have totally missed the way his face is starting to turn green. Thankfully, he catches the warning signs in time, and because it’s quicker to get Kuroko to the bucket than to bring the bucket to Kuroko, Nijimura scoops him under one arm and makes it across from one end of the gym to the other with impressive speed.

Kuroko, ever polite, manages a feeble “thank you very much” before promptly bringing up the contents of his stomach.

It’s a mystery how he manages to vomit so much, Nijimura thinks, given that Kuroko hardly eats in the first place.

“You sure do puke a lot,” he comments, keeping one eye on the other juniors and the other on Kuroko to make sure that he’s done before taking the bucket away. “Are you pregnant or something?”

Nijimura doesn’t know who overhears him or who spreads the rumours, or even how anyone could be stupid enough to actually believe them, but the rest of the basketball club’s members treat Kuroko much more kindly afterwards.

“Sorry for being so hard on you,” one of the first years mumbles awkwardly. “I never knew you were... you know.”

Kuroko stares, expressionless, but the apologies continue to come.

“I guess it all makes sense now,” says someone Kuroko vaguely recognises as belonging to the class next door to his. “I just thought you sucked, but it’d be difficult for anyone to be athletic when they’re... you know.”

“Yeah,” another first year echoes, “when you’re... you know.”

“No,” Kuroko says, “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Don’t worry,” says one of the third years. “You don’t have to be ashamed. Hell, my best friend knocked up a girl from a different school earlier this year. Nijimura will stand by you. That’s why he decided to resign as captain, so he can provide for you and the kid.”

“I thought it was because his dad got sick?”

“No, idiot. Babies cost money, which is why he’s gonna need a job.”

The first years mutter about how cool Nijimura is and how much they respect him, and they tell Kuroko to hang in there before jogging off back to practice.

“Makes you wonder how any of them actually managed to pass the entrance exams,” Nijimura comments, taking a break from supervising club activities as he heads in Kuroko’s direction. “Here, I brought your bucket.”

It’s even got his name written on it. Kuroko sighs. “You should really say something to them, you know. Your reputation will get damaged, at this rate.”

“I dunno about that,” Nijumura shrugs. “I can’t get from one class to the other without getting stopped every five yards by people telling me how much of a manly man I am for being so supportive of my pregnant boyfriend.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Really? I think it’s hilarious. Maybe you should start putting a basketball up your jersey to keep the joke going some more.”

Kuroko raises his eyebrows. “I believe you’re well aware of my inability to shoot hoops, senpai. It would be terrible if my lunch mysteriously found its way into your lap instead of this bucket.”

Nijimura ruffles his hair. “Nah, even you couldn’t miss when I’m holding it right under your nose. Unless you manage to combine misdirection and projectile vomiting into a new killer finishing move, that is. We could call it Illusion Spew.”

“Please don’t be so disgusting.” But Kuroko can’t help smiling just a little bit, especially when Nijimura grins back in encouragement.


End file.
